


Love, War and Poker

by WarriorOmen



Category: Casino Royale - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Bloodplay, Consensual Angry Hate Sex, Fight Porn, Gratuitious Porn, M/M, Mild Dom/Sub Elements, Mostly Porn Without Plot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who says poker tables have to be used just for playing <i>poker</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, War and Poker

**Author's Note:**

> In which Vaeltaa and I team up to bring you this incredibly important work. (Mostly my fault, as during my numerous times watching _Casino Royale_ I've wondered why they didn't just screw on that bloody poker table. To quote Vesper 'Even accountants have imaginations' Or well,in my case University History Students)
> 
> We wrote this in back and forth dialogue style and then edited it up. Hopefully it makes sense.
> 
> Vaeltaa wrote for Le Chiffre, I (WarriorOmen) wrote for James Bond
> 
> According to Google Translate Albanian, this shkërdhat e qelbur means 'dirty slut'. That may or may not be correct. (But since it's _Google Translate,_ take it with a grain of salt. Apologies to anyone who actually speaks, or is, Albanian.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sliding briskly back into his seat at the poker table, James immediately brought his eyes towards Le Chiffre's, "Sorry,' he retorted. “.. that last hand, nearly killed me" not missing the way Le Chiffre's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. A dark stare that, unless you were actively looking for the signs-you wouldn't be able to read. Le Chiffre doesn't appreciate the agent's sense of humor, internally sensing his patience with the man's apparent impetuousness was coming to a rapid end. He wonders how many times Bond could beat death before the Reaper himself grew equally impatient. 

Chuckling to himself, James retook up his hand,glancing towards the cards. The air around the poker table seemed to have intensified, hanging like a translucent fog. Another glance up, scanning the man's impassive face for any sign of visible weakness. Naturally,there was non, but he could feel the dull note of awareness hanging in the air. Both to aware of each other to pretend otherwise,scanning,reading. Watching.

Le Chiffre imagines the blood he could spill, the wounds he could carve, and the sounds like music to his ears he could orchestrate with a scythe of his own. Quickly he takes stock of his options, fully aware he was on the losing end of this game and absentmindedly adjusts his bow tie. "Ever the comedian, Mr. Bond. You should let the cards do the talking." Bond allowed himself to grin. 

Unfortunately for the other man-or perhaps fortunately, he wasn't in the mood to consider a wide variety of tentative options-the more annoyed Le Chiffre became the further spurred along James was. It excited him, encouraged him even. Utterly deterring the effect the banker was perhaps hoping to have.

James glanced to his empty martini glass almost forlornly before his eyes came back up to his opposite. The other players in this game might as well have even been less than background fodder. Narrowed and focused solely on Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre alone. "Well I do love to keep an audience entertained, after all. Yet. I find that my cards will tell a most amusing story indeed' Taking a breath and lowering his hand to the table. "I do hope you do not find yourself tempted to weep, wouldn't want to stain those cheeks of yours with crimson,red as you already are"

A flare of anger flashes across Le Chiffre's harsh features, momentarily betraying his inner emotional turmoil. He knew his clients well enough to know they would not be pleased with this outcome. He gains control of himself, rubbing a finger in circles on his temple and eying the agent across the table. "If I wept, it would simply be because I am forced to look at your face for the remainder of our little game," Le Chiffre chuckles quietly while folding his hands calmly. 

Drinking in the anger that flashed across those features, Bond couldn't help but smirk at the decidedly immature comment directed towards him. 'It's such a lovely face though. I fear your tears would be in lamentation, as yours hardly compares' Deliberately forcing the light spark into his eyes that he mostly reserved for women he absolutely had to win over-for purely work related information bringing purposes of course. Mostly because he knew it would annoy Le Chiffre to bring him down to the brunt of it. The audacity not at all lost on Bond-indeed, it was quite deliberate on his part. 

As the game proceeds, they are soon the only players remaining at the table. The bets are in sky-high figures when the dealer signals for them to reveal their hole cards, and the final showdown begins. His blood pulsates and drums with adrenaline through every vein in Le Chiffre's body, his nerves on edge as he unflinchingly upholds their silent battle of wills with their eyes. He turns his cards; it's a full house. He laughs roughly and thinks this game might not be lost after all. "It seems you might be going home empty-handed this evening."

Rife tension enclose him, wrapping around him. Embrace it, James. Let him think he's won.Let him think he's still the powerhouse here. Able to get back to his clients with naught but a scratch. For a moment,he plastered a false grimace across his face. 'Indeed.." eyes slipping to the full house laid out before him,before giving his wrist a casual flick, 'one of us will be going home empty handed tonight, Mr Le Chiffre,but I say" letting his straight flush fall to the table. 'It won't be me"

Le Chiffre stares blankly at Bond's straight flush for a moment, as if he could will the cards to change and adapt to what he needed them to be, but to no avail. He snaps out of it quickly, the reality of his loss dawning on him and he forces himself to meet Bond's gaze, sparkling with superior amusement. He wants to suffocate the spark in those eyes and coax screams from his arrogant tongue until his voice could no longer be heard. Le Chiffre didn't much enjoy losing, especially when the money he gambled with wasn't his own. "Well, we will see about that," he says with restrained fury in his tone while entertaining a vague idea in the back of his mind. 

For such a pricy con-man, Le Chiffre was terrible at masking his emotions. Unless his emotions mostly ran between 'angry' and 'smug shit'. However Bond knew he'd won, carefully watching the reality of how completely fucked Le Chiffre now was dawning in his one good eye. James was being arrogant, to the point of waving his victory in the other man's face. He allowed himself the small indiscretion. It was his hand now, whatever happened next would be guided by that.

Yes, Le Chiffre thought. An idea in the shape of snuffing out the last life in the agent by incapacitating him somehow, and getting his money back. "However, I am not one to deny defeat," he says with a wide smile that he pushes forward with much chagrin. He notes the spark in Bond's eyes was accompanied by a slight widening of the pupils, signifying a deeper lust beyond a mere desire to win. He decides to exploit this weakness and rises to leave the table, but halting momentarily and turning to face Bond. "I believe congratulations are in order, Mr. Bond," he says with a subtle wink of his scarred eye. "I would be honored to toast your victory in private, if you so desire."

The sudden shift in his voice and demeanor kicked James' sense into high alert. Logic told him that he should call his back up in and get this over with swiftly,quickly. Yet, the daring within him, the curiosity and genuine interest weighed that over. Le Chiffre was already trapped, he had nowhere to run. If the man wanted some last final thrill before he was locked up for life, well. Bond had done stupider things. 'A most gracious temptation you offer up, Le Chiffre' Vesper would be fine on her own for a bit-probably glad to be rid of him for the moment-'I accept'

Le Chiffre knew the other man would take the bait, not a man to decline a obvious challenge to prove his superiority and stroke his masculine ego when it was presented to him. If all went according to plan, this would be the agent's downfall. "Follow me," Le Chiffre says politely and leaves the poker table, his bodyguards and Bond in tow. He desperately needed to get Bond alone and take advantage of the electricity that had grown between them during the intense game of Texas Hold 'Em, use the primal attraction carefully and expertly to gain back what he'd lost. Privacy was not the issue, the tricky part would be the con itself, but Le Chiffre did not think it would pose much of a problem to continue their game upstairs. Only this time, the cards and poker chips would be traded in for heated aggression and an urgent need to physically collect the spoils. 

As they walked, Le Chiffre focused on channeling his frustration and fuming rage into hot blood and raw need, and he found it happened remarkably easy and he wondered if it happened easily for Bond as well. They pass through a long corridor in the extravagant Casino Royale until they reach a large, dimmed play room, used for private tournaments but currently out of use. Le Chiffre motions for his henchmen to pat Bond down, and relieve him of any weapons. "Just a precaution," he smiles as they lift several handguns off the glaring, yet curious agent. 

To Bond, challenges were good, challenges kept the game interesting. Kept thing in motion. He knew his arrogance was continually off putting to Le Chiffre and he could practically taste the coming transgression on his tongue, the air crackling. Emotions were like fire, almost. Burning against his tongue and lighting his veins with..anticipation? Fear? A strange,yet heady mix of both those and something more? There was no trust in his eyes, and even less in his steps as he rose from the table,following Le Chiffre and his small party out of the Casino, keeping his eyes peered for any exit he may have to take in a hurry. Tension was obvious in the other man's broad frame, Bond wondered for the moment if it matched his own, if it was the same sort of tension. A more foolish man would be doubtful of what actually was to come,but James knew better. Reading people as well as he did. Funny,he should be far more nervous. Approaching the private area, he cast a sardonic smirk to the men patting him down,relieving him of his weapons. 'Do you doubt your own capabilities with a gun so much,Le Chiffre?" couldn't help but ask. The retort quick on his tongue. 

The banker turns on his heel and enters the dark, abandoned room with cigar smoke and the successes and failures of many men ingrained in the walls. He waits under the lights, leaning against the vacant poker table and trails one finger, undetected over the switchblade he keeps hidden up his sleeve. Meanwhile James, feeling oddly bereft,but confident enough in his own skills with hand to hand,he followed Le Chiffre,noting that the guards had stationed around them,but were out of the way. Outside the doors. James chuckled,glancing about the poker table. "Surely,you don't wish to try another hand when you've already lost' A bold statement,leaning his body against the table,hands sprawled out to the sides. A lax posture,but quick enough to spring out of,if needs be.

"If you were armed, that wouldn't be playing fair now, would it?" he replies innocently to the blue eyed agent while dragging a hit of his aerosol medication down into his lungs and wetting his lips with a few, carefully lingering licks. He'd noticed Bond's eyes across the table would stray to his mouth in either unintentional attraction or fully apparent arousal. Bond was a difficult man to read but he was a man, none the less. "Why should I assume that either of us is playing fair here?" Bond asked, unable to help himself. Letting his fingers splay out against the green velvet of the poker table, feeling it under his fingers.

Clean,but a shade dusty-Le Chiffre clearly didn't get much use out of this one, and he let the thought entertain him for the moment. Private indeed. Almost literally,entirely so. Nor would he doubt himself when he said he noted the crisp, high tuned fire all but radiating towards him. Sure, it was in anger, but it was remarkable how anger and arousal could coexist until they eventually developed into the same thing. And really,he was a basic man at best-never one to fully doubt himself in such clandestine affairs or even, to an even more literal extent-basic ones.

"We are not so different, you and I," Le Chiffre says casually while ignoring another reminder of his loss, fully intent on not letting Bond get any further under his skin. "We both play the high stakes, and failure is never an option," he continues with a glint in his good eye, dragging his gaze slowly up and down Bond's well-built shape, evident even through the tuxedo's sharp edges. 

Indeed Bond would be lying to himself if he claimed he was hard to please, and when you lied to the world around you lying to yourself seemed...pitiful. So he rarely did so. 

"I fear you might be correct in that matter, Le Chiffre' because for all the man's misbehaviour,it was indeed true. "High stakes are my specialty,and if I were to fail well I would be quite terrible at my job,would I not?" he intoned, well aware that the question was rhetorical as Le Chiffre didn't actually know what he did. 

Le Chiffre speaks again, ignoring Bond's rhetorical question. "I propose a good-natured follow up to our previous game of cards, only now - we play not for business but for pleasure, hm? A private encore, if you will." 

Bond paused, allowing the words that rolled from Le Chiffre's mouth to sink in, nestling in his brain. Feeling the eye upon him he nearly subconsciously tipped his neck to the side. 'Well I could perhaps see no harm in that, after all. Pleasure is..a specialty,if you will"

Quirking an eyebrow, Le Chiffre takes Bond's teasing reply as a yes. "So, let's agree not to play by the rules, then, yes?" he says darkly while subtly decreasing the distance between them, running long fingers across the table as he stepped forward, until his hand brushes against Bond's over the soft, green surface. Senses on high alert, James tilted his back slightly,feeling his body curl backwards against the table, letting the other into his personal space with utterly no resistance. Quick hands, long fingers. For a moment,he allowed for his mind to wander to exactly how capable such dexterous hands might be.

Next to James, Le Chiffre's face is demure and still as he watches the agent intently for any hint of recognition of his true, sinister plans. Finding none, he moves ahead, placing a proverbial bet by leaning in dangerously close. Close enough to smell the alcohol on Bond's breath and the perspiration lingering on his warm skin, even though his shirt was fresh. Le Chiffre intentionally leans in on Bond's right side, so he would have to see his left. "There is a saying amongst gamblers and con men like us. All is fair in love, war and poker." 

James let himself relax a fraction, as far as he was concerned he still had the upper hand; in this little..game. Eyes meeting Le Chiffre's, seeing the challenge there and accepting it willingly. No doubt in his own mind about the intention-it might as well have been spelled out in bright, bold letters across the room. Side eying the door for a moment before he allowed for himself to focus back on Le Chiffre, smelling rich, exotic cologne and the faintest hints of odorless but noticeable medication, under laced with sweat. 

Curling his head forward,he finally let his own hands move, trailing up the long length of Le Chiffre's forearm. "A statement I've heard before, though never quite in this context, but I must ask" A head tilt,forcing himself closer, space almost non-existent. 'Wouldn't you like to make it just a bit more..' gripping the collar of Le Chiffre's shirt and throwing him to the ground, smirking. 'Interesting?"

Pleased at the agent's forceful response, Le Chiffre allows him to manhandle him to the floor and lets out a sharp, dry laugh. "Why not?" he huffs sarcastically and spread his arms out in pretend resignation before using Bond's substantially larger mass against him and kicking his feet out from under him. Le Chiffre wasn't a fighter, he preferred to stay in the shadows and aid wars from behind the curtain, although if he had to get physical he could outwit even the strongest brute, much like James. He topples to the ground with a grunt, releasing Le Chiffre's shirt to break his fall. "And how does a man like yourself define interesting?" he says while strategically taking advantage of Bond's fall to stand up and deliver a crushing kick to his ribcage. "Perhaps... like this?"

It was amazing how one could amp up tension-the reward far more pleasing for the effort,the strain. Delight plain in Le Chiffre's eyes, a game you could only really play if you understood the cards, knew which hand to deal. Experience really,was the only way that this could even be accomplished and achieved. "Why not?" he echoed back,swallowing the nervous laughter. 'Why not indeed..' useless words that neither cared for.Feeling his feet lose all footing,he gripped the poker table for leverage before losing that as well, bracing himself over the heaving man. He was counting on Le Chiffre's lack of combat skills to overpower him, if only for the moment-he had something far different in mind.

"Interesting to me, Le Chiffre is..' James paused, panting lightly. "A most..unique prospect,should you rise too it' Briefly surprised and winded by the kick to his ribcage which sent him flying backwards. Huffing. 'Well you certainly have the right idea' he noted, swinging his fist up to connect with Le Chiffre's jaw, wrapping his hands around his neck and cutting against his airway.

Le Chiffre heard his bones bruise with the pressure of the punch and barely has time to feel the pain ricochet and travel back through his teeth and into his skull, before his airway is restricted by large, strong hands. jumping atop of his chest and wrapping his hand around his neck. 'And perhaps, like this' James growled above him.

Le Chiffre coughs once, twice; feeling a trickle of blood run down from his lip, the skin split open from the sheer force applied by the blunt instrument currently cutting off his oxygen and vital blood flow to the brain. He briefly considers signaling his men waiting outside, but this little tussle had done nothing to suppress his now rather obvious erection. James hissed as he felt the air strangling out of Le Chiffre, his own hardness more than relative. 

Not that he was surprised-erections were a common side effect, in this particular case he had almost been waiting for it. The sick crunching of bone under his hand was a delight that went straight to his cock from the power of it,and he couldn't suppress a slight moan as it happened. Power, was a most extraordinary drug. 

Seeing the blood,James gave into the urge to lick it away,feeling the sweat and cooper a delight on his palate. Intense,rich. Le Chiffre might have it in his head now that James intended to over power him,take him with a force that would leave him barely able to stand again for it. While that was part of the plan..he might not be so good as to guessing exactly what he wanted. Fulfillment. 

Le Chiffre was a mess, roughly gasping for air beneath Bond's choke hold, face shining with sweat and darkening from the lack of air and he makes two swift moves simultaneously. He lifts his hips forcefully upwards into the other man to briefly knock him off balance, and reaches for the knife concealed in his sleeve before rasping the blade along Bond's cheek, narrowly missing his eye.

Craving it now, James couldn't help gasping as the knife dragged across his face. Distracted, and unprepared for it. So many people misinterpreted submission in sex, though he didn't believe a man like Le Chiffre would. Bracketing his legs on either side of Le Chiffre's waist. Of course,the knife to his face only further proved his previous theory. Delighted, he ground downwards, allowing himself the moment of clarity and obviousness. Letting his hands release the pulsing neck,he felt himself pushed off balance by the pushing of Le Chiffre's hips.

"An eye for an eye, James?" he chokes out as Bond's grasp on his neck disappears.

'Leaves the whole world blind' Bond finished, kicking him in the side and jumping off of Le Chiffre, swinging his leg up to connect with the man's chest. A solid,roundhouse kick to the torso that would send him flying.

Le Chiffre stifles an urge to grit his teeth against the dull throbbing ache growing in his chest, knowing very well he bruised easily. "So predictable, Mr. Bond," he snarls between clenched teeth while regaining control of his breathing. "Tell me, is it the adrenaline or the mere act of violence that gets you off?" he asks pointedly, already knowing the answer. He wields the blade expertly, changing it from his left hand to his right and bracing its sharp point against Bond's jugular while untying his bow and discarding it onto the poker table.

Interesting question, James noted. Perhaps it was both. He'd never actually taken the time to sit down and think about the particulars of what turned him on. As far as he was concerned, if it got him hard,follow through. Why waste time and energy wondering about the cause of it? Especially when it had no merit in the end? Simple thing,really. He could tell he'd angered the other yet again-hardly a shock-Le Chiffre seemed to be the type who was quick to temper. "Aww,was that to easy?" he deliberately taunted, raising his knee upwards to deliver a kick to Le Chiffre's ribcage.

'Maybe it's both, after all..I've never actually wasted the energy on wondering about what gets me off. Why bother?" another rhetorical question, blood pumping violently under his skin. Aware of the knife against his throat, he drew his neck back a half fraction to avoid skewering himself, letting the bow tie fall aside,unnoticed as he laughed quietly under Le Chiffre, wriggling his legs and pushing them aside between Le Chiffre's own,throwing him off balance. 'Is that really the best you've got?"

"Ahh, of course, Mr. Bond. I never did presume you to be a great thinker," Le Chiffre retorts while keeping the blade steady against Bond's neck. He absentmindedly wipes the back of his free hand across his slick forehead, further disheveling the dark strands of hair plastered to his wet skin. He lets Bond pry his legs apart while his implied intent dawns on him like a red cloud of nuclear poison, sending fire bellowing into his groin.

"I'm not known for my brain power I'll admit' it was true-half the time the others at MI-6 did the thinking FOR him. He was just pointed places. Not that he was entirely brainless, no not in the slightest-he was often required to think on a dime with utterly no guidance- but..it wasn't his strongest attribute,not in anyway. He was alright with that,though. 

Le Chiffre snickered darkly at Bond's insolence, remembering the earier retort given forth;"And no, my best is yet to come. My best... will have your knees trembling like a school boy sent for punishment in the headmaster's office, my dear boy." Le Chiffre throws off his black velvet jacket and violently shoves Bond up and onto the poker table before climbing on top, panting breathlessly above him. His good eye is darkened like dying embers, making his left eye appearing all the more sickly.

For a moment, James had the insane urge to tug on that loose black hair until Le Chiffre's scalp bled into his hands. Perhaps, later. Catching the very moment the light ignited in Le Chiffre's head (Finally-he'd been starting to think he'd have to grab the blade and spell it out on the poker table for christ's sake) "And how long ago has it been since you were in school?" he retorted, knowing that it was a low blow-but not caring. Far wittier retorts were still hiding beneath the tip of his tongue. 

"If you must know, I graduated years before everyone else. They said my IQ rivalled that of renowned mathematicians decades my senior," Le Chiffre says as they fight for dominance on top of the disused poker table. Pushing forward and shoving James down yet again, the table groaning under their weight and force.

Shoved back, James felt pain exploding in his lower spinal column before he regained his breath, laughing as he watched the eye darken to near blackness. 'Going to have to prove your words, old man' he taunted,suddenly wrapping his legs around Le Chiffre's waist in a vice grip,rolling them over until Le Chiffre was pinned beneath him. Pushing his hands to either of Le Chiffre's shoulders,pinning him down. 

Effectively pinned down yet again, he disgruntedly surrenders to Bond's will. "Are we going to continue this dreadfully dull conversation or are you going to fuck me?" he asks impatiently, lips parted as obscene grunts escaped his throat and he continued grinding their cocks together through expensive fabric tailored to perfection. 

"I figured you had inner nerdiness. You are an accountant,after all' he admitted,though he too was starting to feel just as impatient, barely restraining the groan that feel when Le Chiffre gave him friction. 'Oh..well..since you asked so nicely-didn't know you were capable of that' he pulled at the man's shirt, gripping it on either side till the fabric tore. 

Satisfied to see such expensive material fall apart under knowing hands. Pure unadulterated taunting on his part, reminding the other man exactly how strong he was for the moment. Rolling his hips forward,he made even shorter work of the incredibly cumbersome pants, one hand on his fly,the other on Le Chiffre's, until he tipped his head forward. 'I don't suppose you carry anything useful on you? Or, am I going to have to use whiskey?"

Licking at his split lip and smirking down at his ruined Armani shirt, Le Chiffre swiftly handles the blade still in his hand. He brings it toward his other hand, slicing the blade into his own palm, splitting the skin deeply and bringing a rush of blood toward the surface. 

James chuckled, head dropping in a light shake. Now why hadn't he thought of that? He wondered, licking his tongue across his teeth as he watched the blade slide into the flesh, blood pooling and surfacing. The scent nigh overwhelming as he looked downwards too it, rolling his hips forward to keep with the movement-addicted to the friction and excited by the prospect of more.

"The body gives..." he begins, before wrapping his legs around Bond's waist and violently shoving him sideways and shifting their positions on the table "...and the body takes," he finishes hoarsely.

Raw energy, the table shook in warning beneath them, but held firm. Typical that it'd be one of the stronger wooden ones and not the pathetic plastic ones-which were an excuse at best.

Determined, Le Chiffre wraps his bleeding hand around Bond's length and tugs hard, palming it and coating it with his improvised lubrication while shoving his own pants down around his ankles. "You look disturbed, Mr. Bond," he says with amusement as he continues stroking his cock, now slick and crimson with his own blood. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Disturbed?" James asked, breathing slightly hitched as the now bloodied hand wrapped around him, eyes fluttering shut in distraction. 'Not at all..but..I'm afraid you might be misinformed, after all' he grabbed Le Chiffre's wrist, splaying his fingers and taking a deep breath knowing full well just how much this was going to hurt, moving the hand behind his body. 

'Didn't you promise to make my legs shake?' forcing two of the bloodied fingers inside of himself at once, biting down on his tongue to avoid the sharp hiss wanting to escape. "Or are you not a man of your' he grunted. "Word?"

"My reputation is built upon the validity of my word, James. My word is, hmm - my bond?" he replies with a smirk at the unintended use of the agent's name. 

"Ah yes..reputation, something you apparently still have' he snarked, Le Chiffre's shirt falls loosely around his toned, lean torso and the image of Bond above him on the poker table is maddening and enticing, sending small tremors down Le Chiffre's back. 

The room seems to get smaller and dimmer as Bond prepares and opens himself up with the use of Le Chiffre's slick fingers. Only to retract them from Bond shortly, eager to cause the other man as much torment as possible and the less preparation, the better. James grunted softly at the rapid retraction. Far too soon for his tastes,but perfect all the same. 

Pain had a particular way of grounding you to reality, forcing you to absorb everything completely around you. Embrace it,feel it,experience it. When done right, it carried over into an intense, near breaking feeling that had a unique way of reminding you were alive, satisfying you in a base way that pure pleasure alone couldn't. Mangling your body in ways it should never be. A rush you needed a specific ring of tastes for. One that he didn't exactly have-he was an adrenaline junkie if nothing else. 

But..sometimes..sometimes it was good to feel something so completely you let it override your mind. Opportunities that didn't come all that often and were best snatched up when they did,especially in the right hands.

"This is going to hurt," Le Chiffre says with an eyebrow raised in amusement, quickly letting some of the blood drip onto his own length, the red liquid coating it meagerly. 

His amused words made James sneer and he braced himself just above him,holding still. 'Well' he took a breath,putting one of his hands against Le Chiffre's hips. 'I'm countin' on it' throwing him a look, because he knew damn well if he let Le Chiffre push in rather than doing it himself,well. It would hurt more, in the way it should. Waiting. If he didn't take the bait to make it as painful as he knew,then well, James would do it himself. Either way,couldn't complain.

Le Chiffre's eyelids flutter shut for a brief moment, allowing himself to fully enjoy this moment, the one he'd been imagining ever since first meeting Bond and feeling the strength in his handshake. He watches as Bond braces himself to be entered, fucked, and owned, seemingly yearning for the pain as much as Le Chiffre yearned to give it to him. 

His neck strains with the effort of watching from his prone position but he wants to watch, wants to see how he can destroy this man by hurting him in the best ways possible. He angles his hips upwards and forces himself inside with a primal groan torn from his overworked lungs, eyes closing yet again as the tightness enclosing him and the minute amount of lubrication nearly makes him see stars. He shoves in to the base and begins a steady, achingly rough pace and digs fingernails into Bond's muscled, firm ass. 

James couldn't help but laugh to himself, head shaking in almost..fond amusement. Well. At least he had been right about one thing. Le Chiffre was a bit of a sadist, which was something you could read if you saw the way the man used pain as a power trip. Which became pretty obvious to James,anyway. If only in the last say..ten minutes? He hadn't been paying all that much attention. Both of them utterly selfish in the moment. Using each other purely to satisfy their own means. Not always a bad thing,really. Especially if said selfishness was mutual. Agreed upon. Even own means could, in fact, be negotiated. 

He caught the delight in Le Chiffre's eyes when he realized what he wanted, exactly how much it thrilled him to be able to do so. No sense in lying about it. Besides, in a way,it was sort of a thrill. But thoughts were almost non existent the second he became aware of abrupt fullness, feeling himself instantly reject it as his body fought the sensations almost instant internal chaffing that nearly rocked a cry from his mouth. 

Stars exploded behind his eyes and he forced his legs open wider, relieving some of the pressure inside of himself, taking a deep breath. He had no time to get used to it, utterly no time to make it even remotely easier as Le Chiffre instantly set a near punishing start. He felt electrified all over. Still,he could sense the impatience in the body vibrating beneath him, the string of words that followed only confirming it as Le Chiffre nearly growled. 

"Move for me, Mr. Bond - or I will let my men do with you as they please," he stutters out threateningly as Bond remains frustratingly still.

"Ha..really now?" he panted out when he was finally able to speak over the blinding pain rocketing through his spine. "I didn't think..you'd want the..interruption" but he did move, if only because he wanted too as well. Hands migrated to the other mans shoulders as he rose up and then down again,burning from the inside out.

"Let me clarify," Le Chiffre says in between ragged breaths and grunts, absentmindedly licking a drop of sweat from his upper lip and never ceasing the unrelenting eye contact as he continued pounding into the other man, violently snapping his hips up and in.

"It is in your best interest to obey me," he finishes with a rough edge in his voice, his accent slipping gradually into a far more prominent one, his vowels harder and tinted with Eastern European colors. He was sure the threats would only further entice the agent, as was his intent. Sickeningly delighted by the way Bond looks as if he is coming apart at the seams; panting above him and Le Chiffre watches every twitch of his skin, relishing the contraction of muscles around his cock in response to the intrusion. 

He briefly wishes he'd picked a room with security cameras, noting that this would have made for an interesting way to blackmail the pesky MI6 if they ever dared to meddle in his business in the future. He'd lost a valuable asset when Bond foiled his plans to short-stock the Skyfleet airline. Pity, he thinks, and the thoughts of meddling British spies leading to all his failures only fuels his rapid pace, edging himself ever close to release.

'Consider yourself clarified' he half huffed, only mildly annoyed with how strangled his voice came out. Feeling as though he were being torn in two as he rose back up and then down, deliberately rocking his hips forward and then backwards as he sat,only to rise back up again. With enough, deliberate rocks some of the tension loosened, making the slide easier, but still just as rough, sure he could feel a tear that sent a surge of pain through his lower half, unable to keep quiet. 

Meeting the dark, two coloured eyes beneath him and smirking at the almost pitiful threats. 'Is that the best you ca come up with? Are you trying to scare me or make me laugh?" he asked, unaware that the banker had been goading him along intentionally. Sliding a hand into Le Chiffre's hair and tugging on it as hard as he could. 

Perhaps it was his own slowly sliding sanity that made him say it,or perhaps it was a desire to be so completely owned for the moment that he'd eventually lose whatever coherency he had. Whatever the case, before he quite knew what he was saying, his mouth was against Le Chiffre's ear, biting, taunting. 'This is all you can do? Some reputation, look,you're so close already. Strained" he moved his other free hand behind the both of them,grasping at Le Chiffre's sac,holding it still. 

He wouldn't be able to release if he wanted too. 'Surely a man of your status,can do better' Licking at the sweat and pulling himself backwards a bit. Time to change the game a little. See if he rose to the second challenge.

"You English and your arrogance," Le Chiffre spits at the stinging in his scalp as Bond's hand tugs at his hair. "The former glory of your Empire is a mere shell these days," he smiles mockingly at the agent while attempting to stave his release for a while longer. He wanted to truly fuck the arrogance out the man, leave him shaking and begging for mercy, as pathetic as the Queen's nation herself. "Your pride reeks of desperation," he groans out as the other man cups his balls, bracing himself for a shift.

"It's... pathetic" Le Chiffre hisses from behind clenched teeth and violently yanks the other man down to his level, and flips them so he regained his former position on top. "This is not a game you're going to win, Agent Bond," he whispers against Bond's lips as he resumes savagely fucking him open and raw, bracing his hands beside the agent's head for leverage and increasing his pace until they filled the room with their ravaged grunts and the smell of sweat, blood and sex.

Yanked forward,he could smell and see every bead of sweat on the man's face, back connecting violently with the poker table once more. Growling lightly in his throat only for it to transfer into a choked off gasp that he didn't even try to swallow this time. Hands flying almost automatically and instinctively to his shoulders just to hold on. 

'You really think you're so much better?' he snarled. 'Tell me,how much effort is going into fucking Albania these days anyway? Half the world doesn't even know where it is' he groaned, raking his fingers down the sides of the man's face,drawing blood from his cheeks with a satisfied growl, still holding fast to the sac beneath. Even if that made for an awkward position of limbs. A stretch that burned his muscles.

"Albania?" Le Chiffre chuckles mischievously, realizing this tactic could surprisingly be useful for many things, such as learning just exactly what the British Intelligence Service knew about him - and didn't. He suspected their file on him wasn't exactly thick. "Is that were your people think I am from?" he continues while struggling against the burn in his lungs and the ache in his balls. 

'The world knows England, Le Chiffre. The world respects it. You?" Bond laughed, head tipping forward. 'What have you got to show for,hmm? All your arrogance comes from borrowed fortune, fortune you lost,need I remind you?" His words were a breathless rush, coming out so fast they all but tripped over his tongue. 

"Dear boy, you are sorely mistaken," he says with a predatory smile, continuing to violently shove his length into the other man, most of the blood gone by now leaving merely rough friction against his pulsating cock. 

Quickly, James took a millisecond to scan the man's face for any hint of a lie. Finding non,he gave his hips a violent roll forward,snapping their pelvis together and hissing at the burning sensation rocketing through him anew. So MI-6 was wrong. Sure it'd been known to happen before, and a single mistake was hardly going to shake his confidence in the agency he devoted his life too. But. Well. They were supposed to have the upper hand here. Wrapping his leg around Le Chiffre's waist, he forced him further. 

Space a complete non issue as he pushed them together from chest to pelvis, dragging his teeth down over the man's scarred,clouded eye,chuckling breathlessly, feeling strain in his hips and fire inside. 

"I am merely a number on a stateless passport,” Le Chiffre continues. “You don't -" he grunts deep inside his throat, "- even know my name, except the one I want you to know. The one I want you to scream for me now, you little _shkërdhat e qelbur_."

Scream his name? Really? Maybe he would, just to fucking spite him, but not without due coaxing to be sure. The balance of power constantly teetering between them. The expletive was foreign to his ears,but it sounded good enough, never letting his hips cease their movements, forcing his body to further embrace the rough intrusion, finally relishing the burn inside. "You want to hear your name? You're going to have to make me" he taunted, tangling his fingers back in his hair and tugging, again. Holding fast.

Le Chiffre notes with pleasure the other man's brief uncertainty, searching his expression for truth and using all his ingrained tactical training. It was amusing to see the obvious anger his words could spark, and Bond was not nearly as good at hiding it as he thought he was. Bond forces them closer together and Le Chiffre lets him, a small moan escaping his full lips as the man drags blunt teeth across his damaged eye and tonguing briefly at his scar. 

"I will drag it from your tongue -," he snaps loudly, fucking Bond deep and fast while scraping his fingernails down his chest, leaving red streaks and angry, bloody marks, "- or carve it into your skin. Either way, you will embody it." He buries his cock deeply enough that it had to agonize the other man, and he wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a while. "Say it," he hisses against his ear as he brings a hand down to fist Bond's length to coax his release before his own, nearly tasting his imminent victory.

Inwardly cursing the mild slip up of his face, James took a deep breath, feeling groans ripping their way out from the very base of his soul, legs shaking against the table and Le Chiffre's back, mildly victorious in the action his lips and teeth against the scar had caused, taking a deep breath and biting down as hard as he could atop the eyes raised,scarred brow. Not enough to bleed,but definitely enough to mark. 

Yet, with Le Chiffre moving now in earnest and finally,finally giving him what he wanted, causing bright white spots to start moving their way across his senses, bowing his back and grinding his swollen erection deliberately into Le Chiffre's stomach-long-long neglected by now and almost screaming for attention. His skin felt raw inside and out, electric. Every touch made him shudder now, whether with pain or pleasure he honestly wasn't even sure. Over sensitive and heightened. 

"Some..dragging' he panted, though there was less heat too it and more desperation. His infamous pride could barely care for the moment, all he knew was pure feeling. Relishing it, the violent shoves and thrusts. Feeling Le Chiffre's wide hang against him he almost forgot himself before forcing control down, smirking as best as he could, whispering. 'Le Chiffre...from not-Albania" laughing to himself,though it was less of a laugh and more of a desperate whine. Oh well.

Le Chiffre feels the agent tremble beneath him and briefly revels in the sensations it brings, before growling roughly as Bond's teeth break the skin on his left brow. He tugs harder on Bond's cock in response, timing his strokes with the harsh penetration, menacingly punishing him for his insolence. As Bond whispers - not screams - his name, Le Chiffre feels the heat in his groin peak but holds back out of pure, relentless defiance. Smirking, he relishes watching Bond come quickly undone under his sweating, heaving body. 

"That will do." He swiftly leans down and sinks sharp canines into the soft flesh above Bond's collar bone, slicing into the skin and moaning as his mouth filled with the agent's thick, warm blood.

Drawing in air, James felt another smirk coming to his face,eyes still bright as they glanced up wards to the sizable teeth mark he'd left on the man's face. Glorious. It filled him with pride and satisfaction. Sensing that it had spurred Le Chiffre into action he dug further within himself to muster up some of his reserved strength,grinning widely through gasping breaths as he dragged his nails down the man's back. 

Sinking into the flesh of his ass to hold him closer, wrapping his legs about his narrowed hips as tightly as he could and clenching his inner walls around the pulsing hardness residing within him, so tight he could almost feel his heart beat through his veins. Body shaking. 

'Glad you're so easy to please' he groaned, letting out an honest shout as teeth lodged in his neck, bringing the blood to the surface at a dizzying force. Unable to stave off the release any longer when his head slammed backwards into the poker table. No matter, he still held Le Chiffre in an internal vice grip that had to hurt, momentarily losing himself in the full bodied release.

Immensely satisfied, Le Chiffre laps at the bleeding wound he'd created on Bond's neck, tasting bitter iron and and the feral sounds of his agony like music to his ears. He feels Bond's come run slick and hot down his hand still wrapped around his length, stroking the orgasm out of him with painful tugs, mixing the sticky come with the semi-dried blood still coating his fingers. He squeezes his eyes shut and with one; two; three final thrusts he comes deep inside Bond's ass, shuddering throughout his entire form and animalistic grunting dripping from his open, crimson stained lips. 

His trembling subsides quickly and he slides himself out while placing one last open mouthed kiss on Bond's sweat soaked chest, leaving a ridiculous bloody stain like a twisted mockery of lipstick. "I am a man of simple pleasures, Bond," he smiles a morbid grin at the other man while feeling a tight pressure build in his deranged tear duct. He lets the red teardrop pool in his eye for a moment, before using Bond's pristine, white dress shirt to wipe it away. 

"And, you might be the simplest one of them all."

Screw dignity and whatever else might be related too it. Feeling everything tense inside of him before heat joined the burn he shuddered and groaned openly, loudly. Not even caring who heard or why. What did it matter? His body trembled against Le Chiffres and the table, shaking through the searing hot burning within and panting fitfully when he felt Le Chiffre slide away, eyes squeezing automatically shut as he felt nearly instantly cold, biting back the whimper as defiantly as he could,before letting it go with a slight huff. 

As the haze passed,he felt the ache in his limbs,the stretching of muscles now screaming against him as he looked up at Le Chiffre for the moment, happily just lying there until he felt less winded.

"I never claimed to be complicated' he admitted, realizing that he should probably move,bracing his hands on either side of himself and lifting his body into a seated position,scanning the floor for his pants. Both relishing and abhorring the pain enveloping his body. All things considered,he couldn't deny that the man had done a good job. Blissfully light headed-but aware.

Le Chiffre re buttons what remained of his tattered shirt and takes out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow, and smooths his dark hair back into place. He ties the handkerchief into a makeshift bandage around the cut in his palm. He smiles darkly at Bond's comment and picks up his nearly forgotten switchblade, twirling it lightly between two fingers. "It seems we are both in need of a change of shirts this time," he notes with a look to Bond's bloody and sweat soaked shirt, and his own ruined one. 

"Perhaps you could buy me a new one, it's not like you can't afford it with your winnings." His smile is wide, but his eyes are sullen and treacherous as he puts the blade back into his sleeve and gestures to his men outside to open the doors. "I''m afraid I have pressing business matters to attend to, so we will have our drinks a different evening. Raincheck?" he asks but doesn't wait for a response and gathers his velvet suit jacket carefully over his arm, turning on his heel towards the door but not before offering one, last quip, with his twisted smile widening to reveal the same teeth that mere minutes ago were painted red with Bond's blood. "Until next time, Mr. Bond."

Wincing lightly when his feet finally connected with the floor again, James grabbed for his pants,tugging them onto his body and pulling his arms into his shirt,buttoning it hastily. 'Clothes never last long in my work..' he half muttered,watching the switchblade out of the corner of his eye, catching the dark expression that slipped over his features. "Sure sure, I'll give you a few pounds,why not' Rolling his shoulders to force feeling back into them and running his hands through his hair, noting the blood there. 

Hm. Didn't have time for a shower now,casting a quick glance to his watch. Whoa. Definitely not. Frowning when he realized just how much time had passed he dug around in his suit coat for his cellphone,pulling it free to check the missed messages, grimacing when he saw about four from Vesper. Tucking the phone back into his pocket he slid his feet back into his shoes and watched Le Chiffre leaving.

'Yeah. Yeah, next time. Have a good night' he mumbled,distracted. It wasn't until the door closed behind Le Chiffre that he noticed something off about that statement.

There wasn't supposed to _be_ a 'next time'. Blood cooling in his veins, he threw the door open,scanning for the guards-and of course seeing non. But his gun was still waiting on the floor. Stooping to pick it up he grabbed his phone again,pushing the button for Vespers number. It rang twice before cutting to voice mail. Cringing, he shoved the device back into his pocket, gun sliding into the waist band of the back of his pants and taking off in a run down the hall. 

Well done,Bond. Well.Done.


End file.
